Aftermath
by Eurgh
Summary: The usually very put together Ginevra Weasley seemed to be at a loss for words." A one-shot revealing some of the aftermath of the seventh book. HarryxGinny


**A little one-shot showing some of the aftermath of the seventh book. Enjoy!**

**Aftermath**

"Harry James Potter."

He looked up, startled, from the untouched food in front of him. He had not expected anyone to come in here; they were all mourning together, mourning deaths he had caused.

"Y-Yes?"

She stared at him for a moment, her dark red hair falling down her shoulders. As her brown eyes bore into his own green, he reflected for a moment on her beauty. He really hadn't appreciated how beautiful she was before this; it seemed every time he saw her, she was more and more beautiful.

The usually very put together Ginevra Weasley seemed to be at a loss for words.

"Harry James Potter." This time, the words sounded less angry. He liked the way her voice caressed his name. For a fleeting moment, the words "Ginevra Molly Potter" flitted through his mind; he shook the thought away. There would be time enough to think of that later.

"Yes, Ginny?" He asked softly. He was weary, he realized. It had been only a day since the battle; they had only just arrived from Hogwarts at the Burrow.

"How… Why…" She struggled with the words for a moment, her brown eyes sullenly directed at the floor. Finally, with a burst of courage, she looked up at him. "How could you just go off and try to _kill yourself_ without at least informing me? Don't you think I'd have liked to know?"

"Well, to be fair, I wasn't killing myself. I was letting Voldemort kill me." He tried meekly.

"How does that make it better?" She glared at him. In that moment, she was so like the old Ginny- and it made him feel like the old Harry- that he very nearly took her face in his hands and kissed her. But then he recalled the whole family was in mourning for the death of Fred and Tonks and Lupin; the happiness drained out of him, as though a dementor was just over his shoulder.

"I didn't die?" He offered.

She stared at him incredulously, as if she couldn't decide if he was being smart with her or not. Finally, she sighed.

"Yes. You didn't die."

In a moment, she was in his arms. He could feel her shaking with silent sobs. Her fingers clutched tightly at the back of his T-shirt, and he could hear her murmuring into his shirt.

"I thought you were, I though you and Fred and Lupin and Tonks were all gone, I didn't know what I'd do…"

He didn't know what to tell her. After all, Fred was still dead. He wouldn't crack another joke, he wouldn't laugh with his twin. Lupin and Tonks were both gone, leaving little Teddy an orphan. He felt tears burn his eyes.

"Why did you do it?" Ginny turned her tearful face up to him. He couldn't help but smile at her; he could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen her cry. "Why the bloody hell would you do something so absolutely stupid?"

"We were getting rid of Horcruxes." He explained, the faintest of grins tugging at his lips.

"I know _that_. You've already explained that bit." She said crossly and he laughed, inexplicably. It felt so _normal_, after what had just happened. Ron, Hermione, and himself had finally given the Weasley family an explanation for dropping out of Hogwarts.

"Ginny, I _was_ a Horcrux. I had to die. Otherwise, Voldemort would've still been tethered to life."

Her mouth formed a little "o" of surprise. He felt a smile tugging at his lips, and was amazed that he could feel anything pleasant after all they'd just been through.

"I always knew you were too noble for your own good." She reprimanded him with a little sigh. "Everything you do is for some stupid, noble reason, isn't it?"

"Not this." He assured her and then he kissed her. Her lips were soft, the way he remembered them, and her hands were warm as they slid up his neck to tangle into his messy hair, and she smelled of flowers and home-

"Oh. Sorry." A very pink Hermione abruptly turned out of the kitchen. Ginny and Harry exchanged a bemused glance.

"Always interrupted." She pointed out with a small, sad smile. "I'm glad you're okay, Harry. You don't know what it was like."

He thought of Bellatrix Lestrange's Killing Curse, missing Ginny by a mere inch.

"Yeah, I do."

"Was it hard?" It felt natural as they broke apart, as her delicate, soft hand slipped into his own. They sat now, holding hands, looking out the window at the brightening sky.

"Was what hard?" He furrowed his brow.

"Going to Voldemort." She paused. "Walking to your own… death."

"Oh. That." He thought of his mother and father, of Sirius and Lupin. He thought of his pounding heart, his trembling hand. "It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I actually put my wand away so I wouldn't be tempted to defend myself."

She looked at him as though he had gone mental (which, to be perfectly fair, was very possible). A moment later, she shook her head, as though she'd given up on understanding his eccentricities. Instead, her thumbs traced patterns on the back of his hand.

It was a brief, perfect moment. Silence was never uncomfortable with Ginny. She didn't feel the need to fill the air with incessant chatter, useless things that neither of them cared about. He listened to the soft sound of her breathing. He concentrated on the warm feeling of her palm against his own, the soft and delicate patterns her thumb drew against his skin.

In that moment, he allowed the grief of the past day slip away from him. He let Tonks and Lupin and Fred and the others lie in peace, if only for a moment, and focused on the beautiful form of his girlfriend.

Wordlessly, she stood and pulled him to his feet by their clasped hands. He knew, without having to ask, that she'd taken him back; that, in her mind, they had never really been apart. As they walked out of the kitchen, to join her family (_his_ family, he realized with a start), he pulled his hand from her grasp and wrapped it around her shoulder. She put her arm around his waist and they walked into the living room, her head resting on his shoulder.

The rest of the family looked up at them. There was no surprise on any of their faces; in fact, Harry could have sworn he'd heard Ron mutter to Hermione: "Took them longer than I expected."

"So, you didn't tear him to pieces? Good for you, Gin." George's attempt at a joke fell flat; he wasn't smiling.

"Yes, well, now he's got no excuse to be gallant. I figure he can't do anything stupid anymore."

"Oh, trust me Ginny, he can." Ron shot his friend a weak smile.

"Yeah, Ginny." Harry squeezed her shoulder as they took the empty places beside Ron and Hermione on the floor. "You never know. I may decide to go off rounding up Death Eaters or something."

"Well, of course you will." She rolled her eyes. "And those two'll get to go with you, and I'll wait here. But that's not too terrible."

Hermione and Ron smiled weakly. He met his best friends' eyes; how had they stayed with him, through seven years of this madness? Through seven years of pain and fear? A sudden warmth flooded through him, despite the atrocities that had occurred. Would Lupin really have wanted him to wallow, to beat himself up?

No, of course not. And he probably would still do that, later, when he could remember all the reasons he _should_ feel guilty and unhappy.

The room was almost glowing. Each breath sent a bittersweet twang through his chest; he was alive. And the others weren't. He could still picture Collin Creevey…

The sun was rising on another day. Yet another day without the creature known as Lord Voldemort; shouldn't he have been filled with hope? Filled with pride and some sense of accomplishment?

He hoped these feelings would come later. For now, he was exhausted and drained. He could only feel his grief for those had passed, the emptiness, the uncertainty- what now? What was there left for him? He had spent all his time, all his mental energy, on defeating Voldemort. Nothing else had mattered to him.

What would replace that passion?

He felt selfish, even thinking of his _own_ problems. There were families mourning this day, because he had been unable to finish it sooner.

"You're brooding." Ginny's breath tickled his ear. The family was absorbed in its small conversations. Hermione's head rested in Ron's lap, and his fingers tangled through her hair. He could see, in that brief glance around the room, the undeniable relief mingled with the grief. Whatever else had happened, they had one another.

And hopefully it would stay that way.

"I suppose I am."

"Let's go." She took his hand and led him out of the Burrow, out into the chilled morning light. The sun's light kissed the dew on the grass. There were no clouds; shouldn't there have been? Some kind of sadness in the atmosphere for all that had been lost.

They walked in silence for some time. The morning dew soaked into his shoes, but he didn't really mind. The cool air stung his throat as he inhaled deeply.

"I'm so glad I didn't lose you, too." He finally told her, almost calmly.

"Me, too." She stopped, and looked at him. "Really. It would have been…"

"Awful."

She laced her fingers through his.

"I missed you. I never knew if you were alright."

He grinned wryly, remembering nights he would simply watch Ginny's dot on the Marauder's Map. He had missed her tremendously, every little thing about her.

"You're beautiful, you know." He tucked a loose strand of fiery hair behind her ear. She flushed, barely.

They enjoyed the morning sunlight, and talked about mundane things- he told her stories of the past year, silly arguments over food and Gringotts and the Ministry. She told him about Hogwarts, and the rebellion. The air seemed lighter already, with her singing voice to keep the demons at bay.

There would be time for stories. Hours, days if they wanted them. He remembered the frantic pounding of his heart, trying to outrace its coming destruction. It beat steadily now, as he held hands with the most perfect girl.

He realized something.

"Gin."

"Yeah?" She turned to look at him, her upturned face angelic in the sunlight.

"I love you."

The words were simple. She didn't need any fanfare. He could already picture them together. Together would be enough; they didn't need the show that other couples put on. To _be_ was such a miraculous thing in itself; what else would fancy dinners and expensive gifts prove? Not that he wouldn't try. He knew her, though, knew her inside and out. She wouldn't want them to be like that.

"I love you, too, Harry." She smiled his favorite smile.


End file.
